


Halcyon and On and On

by kscribbles



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff, Het, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:32:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/pseuds/kscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor did nothing by halves. Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/506036">Bind Me, or Undo me</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I left [Bind Me, or Undo me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/506036) at a very teasing stopping point. ;) So here I (and the Doctor) try to make good on some promises. Set between GITF and ROTC.
> 
> Many thanks to Principia for her beta work. Dedicated to Requialexa. Title is taken from the Orbital song of the same name. Written in 2008.

Rose stretched on the warm stone, feeling the comforting breeze and sunlight on her skin, and tried to focus on what had woken her. And then the sensation came again, a soft tap upon her nose. From a cool fingertip that could only belong to one person.

She smiled inwardly, but didn’t open her eyes, wanting to see what he’d do next to try to wake her.

“Rooo-ose,” he softly sing-songed, close to her ear. He must be sitting right next to her. He glided his fingertip down past her nose to flutter over her lips and then chin before moving up to her forehead and tapping there as well. “I said, ‘wander, explore,’ not ‘have a kip in the gardens.’”

“Mmm, soft comfy stone, though,” she mumbled at him, rolling onto her back and blinking at the sunlight.

“Yup, it is that.” He bounced on his bum a few times, like a child sitting on a trampoline. “It’s fairly unique to this part of the universe. A wonder the natives abandoned this place. Halcyon,” he said, drawling out the planet’s name, “I’ve heard it called. It’s beautiful. The flowers, they smell divine. And the colours of these plants, it’s extremely rare to have so many colours of the rainbow in one place and not clash horribly. It has to do with the quality of the sunlight; did you know it’s sunny 92 percent of the year here? Yet everything is lush and thriving and bright. Even the dirt itself iridesces. Remarkable.”

She glanced around again, as much as she could from her position, taking in the dream-like beauty of this long-abandoned haven.

“Anyway, up you get.” He pulled her by both arms into a seated position. She used the momentum to propel herself into his arms. He giggled and happily hugged her back.

“Mmm, soft, comfy Doctor,” she mumbled into his neck.

“Oi!” He pulled away. “I am not _soft_!”

“Oh, fine,” she huffed. “Chiselled, manly Doctor. Now hug me.”

He gave her a brilliant grin and relaxed back into an embrace. It felt so nice to be held by him for no particular reason at all, just for the joy of it. This wasn’t a hug on their way into danger, they hadn’t just barely escaped with their lives (not since yesterday’s incident with an angry Flufervox, anyway). It was just them enjoying being together.

On the tail end of that thought came another. This was the first time they’d been _alone_ in so long. It must have been over a week by now. With the exception of the night after the Doctor returned from Versailles, it had been one crazy adventure after another since Mickey had come along, with little time in the TARDIS for much other than sleep. Each adventure was more harrowing than the next. Mickey’s trial by fire, the Doctor had mentioned, though of course he never _intended_ to bring them into danger.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and gently pulled out of the embrace. “So where’s Mickey?” she asked, plucking at an errant bit of fuchsia-coloured grass that peeked through a crack in the stone beneath her.

“He’s out collecting ceratrif root. The extract helps to make a sort of salve. When things go…sparky, it bridges burnt connections in the TARDIS console workings while she heals herself. Mickey was happy to go on a quest somewhere safe for a change.”

“Can’t the TARDIS make her own… burn cream?”

“She’s been through a lot, our TARDIS. Sometimes she needs a little help.”

“Hmm,” she considered. “So we’re alone for a while?”

“Looks like, yeah.”

There was a pause where neither of them spoke for a moment and then he shifted to draw something out of a trouser pocket.

“Here try this,” he said proffering her something small and bright blue.

“What is it?” she asked suspiciously.

“It’s called an ino berry. Something else hard to find anywhere but here. It’s delicious.”

“What’s it like?”

“You’ll see. Go on, it won’t bite.” He held it up to her mouth.

Rose eyed the berry cautiously. The Doctor smiled slyly, then rubbed the berry slowly across her bottom lip. Her eyes widened at the action. It was the most blatantly sensual thing he’d done to her since they’d shared heated kisses in his study the night when they’d finally let some barriers down between them. But for the small knowing glances he’d throw her way when no-one else was looking, she almost could have believed their relationship had regressed back to the way it had always been–before Sarah Jane, before Reinette–best mates, nothing more.

But there was no question now what was on his mind. His eyes, which a moment ago had been playful, were now smouldering, boring into hers intensely. Her eyes flicked down to his fingers for a second and she parted her lips just enough for him to push the berry in, as she slowly returned her eyes to his.

She briefly tasted the unique flavour of the Doctor’s skin as he withdrew his finger before reflexively biting down on the berry. The taste exploded on her tongue as she broke through the skin of the tiny fruit. It was like all her taste buds had been sleeping and were shocked awake. She’d never tasted a berry quite so marvellous, a quick tang and then a melting, shifting sweetness. It was completely alien and yet somehow elusively familiar, almost like a hybrid of the best of all earth berries. She bit back a moan of enjoyment caused partly by the enthralling flavour of the berry and partly by the way the Doctor was looking at her, watching her reaction.

“Good?” he asked, an eyebrow arching.

“God, yeah,” she said swallowing the last of the berry. “They’re gorgeous.”

“Thought you might like them. I’ve one more left. Have it.”

“Only one left?”

“They’re a bit hard to locate, being so small and blending in as they do with the branches they grow from. Took me the better part of an hour to find just these and one I tried earlier.” He held the berry in his palm like an offering.

She popped it in her mouth and bit down once, but at his look, stopped chewing. Around the fruit she asked, “What?”

“Kiss me.”

“But I’m ch–”

He cut her off, sliding both hands into her hair, hauling her lips to his and immediately plunging his tongue into her mouth.

If the taste of the berry alone could be called an explosion, combining it with the taste of the Doctor was like a bursting supernova. All her senses came alive as her taste buds had; she didn’t realize how starved she’d been for him. And now, unfettered as they were by the emotional turmoil of the last time they’d done this, she happily gave herself over to the sensations, fervently returning the kiss as the small ino berry dissolved between them.

Clutching at his jacket, she pulled him as close as she could, practically crawling into his lap. The kiss was hot and wet and amazing, and she could not recall a time she was ever snogged so thoroughly. The Doctor did nothing by halves. His tongue swept along every corner of her mouth as he tasted her, gliding across hers, fuelling her desire and setting her head spinning.

Finally she dragged her lips away, the need for oxygen becoming too great. When her eyes fluttered open, she found him only a few inches away, watching her with an unreadable expression on his face.

The first word that came to mind was _wow_ , but what she uttered was a shaky, “Doctor?”

He smiled impishly at her. “Sorry, I wanted to share. That all right?”

She pressed her lips together, her tongue flicking out to savour the taste of him there. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice still weak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “But you don’t need an excuse, you know.”

“I know,” he said softly, looking away briefly.

“Thought maybe you might have changed your mind about wanting–”

“No,” he answered decisively, turning the full power of his gaze back on her. His lips curved back into a smile and he brought his mouth close to hers again. “I haven’t changed my mind,” he whispered. “I’m actually quite firm on the subject,” he kissed her lightly in between words, “if you are.”

It seemed as though he might want an answer from her to that, but she was rather preoccupied by the feeling of his lips and tongue trailing over her throat. She only became further distracted as he disentangled their limbs and lowered her to the soft stone, sliding over her. Her voice still having deserted her, she tried to convey her agreement by clutching at his suit jacket, tugging at the layers of fabric covering his back, trying ineffectually to get to skin.

“Rose,” he said, chuckling close to her ear as he slid a hand underneath her t-shirt to glide over her flank, “I wouldn’t want to presume. You do _seem_ quite for the idea.”

“I am!” she gasped out.

He smiled down at her again before reclaiming her mouth. He explored it sweetly, moving his hand to caress a bra-clad breast as he did so, the delicate friction of lace causing Rose to squirm beneath him.

He broke their kiss and lifted her shirt up over her breasts so he could rain kisses atop the newly revealed flesh. He tasted the skin of the breast he’d been neglecting so far, running his tongue across the bit not encased by her bra before yanking the fabric out of the way to take that nipple into his mouth.

Rose knew now, without doubt, of a handful of things his tongue was exceptionally good at, and she positively ached to learn more. She heard unfamiliar low noises issuing from her throat as he released her nipple, and continued exploring her skin with his mouth and hands.

After minutes of licking and sucking and caressing the skin available to him, he continued speaking as if there’d been no pause in their conversation.

“Good, because there are so many things I want to do to you. _With_ you,” he amended, his fingers skimming back and forth at the top of her jeans. “Although, this may not be the beeest place.”

“No, probably not,” she breathed out without much conviction and absolutely _no_ intention of stopping him.

“I hadn’t planned on it when I brought you here, really I hadn’t. Just a holiday. It’s been a bit rough lately, and we could use a day off from running for our lives.” He fitted his body close to hers, one knee between her thighs and she could feel exactly how affected he was by touching her. “Still, this… with you, Rose, it is partly about not wasting opportunities.”

He flicked open the button of her jeans and Rose held her breath as he slowly lowered the zip. She could swear she heard every tooth of it release, thudding loudly as her heartbeat in her chest. For a split-second of panic, she thought she might be having an amazingly vivid erotic dream. Everything that had happened since she awoke here seemed hyper-real, amplified by the hazy light that seemed to always be at mid-afternoon, the swish and flutter of the colourful plants, the soft springy ground she laid on. But the Doctor’s solid weight on her, his hand, finished with her zip and poised now right beneath her navel, those felt very real. She concentrated on trying to breathe normally and licked her lips in anticipation, waiting for him to move again.

He caught and held her gaze, his dark eyes brimming with barely restrained lust, as his hand slipped under the waistband of her knickers to touch the flesh beneath. His eyes slid shut when he reached the damp curls at her centre, immediately finding her most sensitive spot.

When he breathed out her name in something that sounded like wonder, any composure she’d been clinging to snapped. She reached up and fiercely pulled his head down to hers so she could kiss him again, greedily thrusting her tongue in to meet his. He responded to her kiss eagerly and echoed her change in pace with his hand, pressing it firmly against her and beginning a stroking rhythm with his fingertip that might drive her over the edge very, _very_ soon. The fact that no one had touched her like this in so long notwithstanding, he was incredibly talented. No unsure fumbling and searching like other blokes she’d been with, just his perfect, nimble fingers playing her like a master musician did his favourite instrument.

She arched beneath him, pushing her hips into his hand as she sought out anywhere to touch him. She settled on his hair, running her hands through it again and again, mussing it deliciously while she continued dancing her tongue against his. She clutched at his head harshly when he slid his hand further downward. Shoving aside fabric where necessary, his thumb took over teasing her while two fingers slid just inside her.

“God,” she gasped against his lips, breaking their kiss.

He apparently took this as encouragement and he pushed further inside before withdrawing and thrusting again. She was again amazed at how he seemed to know exactly how and where to touch her, just the right speed and pressure, and in just a few strokes of those magical fingers, she was clenching powerfully around them as he brought her to a blinding orgasm. Her eyes squeezed shut and she pressed her mouth into his neck to muffle her cries, riding out the electric surge of pleasure that coursed through her body.

When she stilled, he eased his hand out of her jeans and rested it on her belly. He lifted himself off her a bit as well, letting her catch her breath. His eyes, still filled with adoration and desire, now also held a wry amusement.

_He’s bloody **proud** of himself!_

The thought, when it came, amused her to no end. She tried to contain her mirth behind the lazy smile she knew she was giving him, but it exploded in a fit of giggles.

“What?” he asked, sitting up. He sounded mildly offended and more than a little curious.

She couldn’t answer, and he was looking at her like she’d grown a second head, which made her laugh even more. Then he shrugged and laughed right along with her.

The outburst of laughter felt almost as good as the _other_ release she’d just had. Well, perhaps not _quite_ almost. But she hadn’t realised that so much tension had grown between them lately, despite having agreed not so long ago on where they stood with one another. She felt _that_ tension ebbing away as their laughter faded and he eased his body over hers again–and then another kind began to build. He was still what must be achingly hard, and hot–she could feel that clearly through the layers of clothing between them. She marvelled at his self-restraint–a typical human male might have torn all her clothes off by now and shagged her senseless. She’d already had an amazing climax and she wasn’t sure _she_ could wait much longer.

“Rose,” he said in a low voice. “You are… remarkable.”

“Like the planet?”

“Better than the planet,” he answered, nuzzling her neck by her ear. “It stays here, stationary, and you come with me.”

“Not yet, I don’t,” she whispered huskily. “I think you have some catching up to do.” She slipped a hand down between their bodies to press against him through his trousers.

“Yeah,” he squeaked as she stroked him experimentally, “you might be right about–”

He froze mid-sentence and looked at her curiously. Then, in an instant, his eyes filled with alarm. Quick as a flash, he scrambled off her and stood, as if preparing to flee from her.

“Wha–?” she asked, sitting up, confused.

Turning back, he said quickly, “Sorry. It’s Mickey, I heard him. He’s on his way. And unless you want him to arrive at several absolutely correct conclusions, I’ll just go… over there.” He gestured vaguely to somewhere in the distance, and set off again at her brief nod. Then, after two steps, he turned around again, and hopping comically on the ground, leaned down and kissed her hard one last time before releasing her.

She watched him scamper away, her mind reeling from the lightning-quick shift in activities, but aware enough of what he’d said to make the necessary zips and tugs to make herself appear presentable. She heard Mickey calling just as she was attempting to tame her hair.

“Rose! Doctor!”

She glanced back at the Doctor who seemed to be entranced by the bark of a purple tree on the other side of the large gardens, his back towards the direction Mickey’s voice was coming from. Then she returned her gaze forward and gave Mickey a smile as he came into view around a large shrub.

“There you two are! I’ve been looking all over this crazy planet for you.”

His arms were laden with what must be the root the Doctor sent him after; he even had some crammed in the pockets of his jeans. He was completely covered in shimmering dirt and for some reason that set Rose to laughing again.

“What’s so funny?” Mickey asked indignantly.

“Nothing, just you’re all covered in glittery dirt, holding bits of shrubbery.”

“Pair of wings is all you’d need and you’d be a fairy!” came the Doctor’s animated voice, now close behind her.

“Oi! You sent me after these roots, Doctor! And at least I…” he searched the pair of them, obviously looking for something to comment on. He stepped up to Rose and plucked a dried leaf from her hair. “At least I haven’t got leaves in my hair! What’re you doing on the ground, anyway?”

Rose hoped she wasn’t visibly blushing as she nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders and demonstrated the ground’s buoyancy. “It’s bouncy?”

 

To be continued…  



	2. Chapter 2

A day off, the Doctor had said. Rose had chosen the day’s destination (somewhere pretty was all she’d said) and so he, as the Doctor’s other companion, got to choose a film to watch that night in the comfy living room with an even bigger screen than the one the TARDIS had provided for his room. 

Mickey wondered if the day off had been declared for his benefit, but he didn’t feel like he needed a holiday. He was loving all this adventure. Running from place to place, learning new things and saving lives—it was a good life, and he felt a bit of a git for being too scared to take the Doctor up on the offer the first time it had come around. Even if it was a little strange spending day in and day out with Rose again. Rose and _him_. 

There was no question about it. Those two had been mooning all over each other lately. Rose had never told him how her talk had gone with the Doctor that first night he spent on the TARDIS. He’d seen her, though, when she came out of the study that night, not that she’d noticed him looking. 

He’d just got up to hunt down the kitchen to get a glass of water in the middle of the night when he caught sight of her in the hallway, leaning against a door, clearly flustered, but also… pleased? No that wasn’t it exactly, but she seemed to have a sense of peace about her once she caught her breath and pushed away from the wall to head to her room. 

He’d known Rose all her life, and he considered himself a bit of an expert on being able to judge her moods from afar. It was a handy warning system to have when you were boyfriend to an amazing girl who also just happened to be her temperamental mother’s daughter. 

As he’d watched her walk away that night after they’d surely talked about Madame de Whatever, he’d wondered if she and the Doctor had…. Well, it seemed unlikely, but it’d be about time, wouldn’t it? Rose was so clearly in love with him—had been since he was all big-eared and broody. And the pretty boy obviously felt the same way about her. Though what he was doing swanning off with that French woman, when there must have been about a million other ways to go about saving her, Mickey wasn’t sure.

Now, examining his memories with Rose leaning up against him on the couch, legs stretched out and feet in the Doctor’s lap, he found, almost surprisingly, that he wasn’t really jealous. Not then, and not now. Oh, he loved Rose, always would. And he’d almost certainly go back with her if that was what she wanted. But if he was honest, they’d been over for ages. Since the first time she’d stepped in the TARDIS, really, but the last time in Cardiff with the old Doctor had been the nail in the coffin. He didn’t love feeling the odd man out in this tight-knit circle of experienced time-travellers, but he’d be seriously kidding himself to think Rose’s heart would ever be his again, if it ever really had been.

He worried, though, what the Doctor might do with it. She was a tough woman, no doubt about that, but she had a good heart that didn’t do too well with breaking. He’d been there to pick up the pieces for her before. He didn’t fancy having to do it again. This wouldn’t be like Jimmy Stone. When the Doctor trampled all over Rose’s heart, it might end up broken beyond repair.

She was so happy now, though. Barely paying attention to the movie he’d chosen. The Doctor, for his part, at least feigned interest in _Bad Boys_ , commenting on how this or that explosion was physically impossible, while idly rubbing Rose’s bare feet, though they’d done no running today. But Rose was off somewhere in her head. Had been since they all sat down in the living room. She’d pass the popcorn as required and respond when he’d tout the brilliance of a gunfight scene, but if he had to guess, he’s say her mind was focused steadily on the skinny alien bloke across the couch. 

There seemed to be unspoken communication floating between them every so often, and he wondered if maybe the Doctor really was in her head, speaking to her. But he figured he might have heard about that particular talent if it existed. As well as he knew Rose’s moods, he couldn’t tell much now besides that she was content and happy. And a bit like she had a secret, but that could just be her feeling relaxed and playful. Maybe he was losing his touch. 

“Well, I’m going to bed,” Rose announced, breaking his reverie. She stood up and stretched.

Mickey paused the movie. “Rose, there’s only 20 minutes left, you can hang out a bit longer.”

“Mickey, we know what happens. There’s a slow-motion chase, the good guys put all the pieces together and go catch the bad guys, guns a’blazin’ and more stuff blows up. I’ve seen this what? A dozen times? Besides, I’m tired.”

“From all that nothing that you did today?” 

“Whatever. You two,” she waved her hand about vaguely, “do whatever it is blokes get up to when the girls leave the room.” She rubbed a hand affectionately over his close-cropped hair. “Goodnight. You too, Doctor.”

The Doctor gave her a little half-wave, half-salute thing, and indicated for Mickey to press play, apparently disinterested in her departure. He wasn’t fooling anyone.

In the past two hours, the Doctor seemed the most relaxed he’d _ever_ seen him, apart from when he was suffering from regeneration sickness. And it wasn’t just lounging about that had him so calm. It was Rose. In a minute or two, he’d probably go fidgety and impatient, itching to go fix his ship, or whatever he did while he and Rose were sleeping.

“What?” the Doctor suddenly asked.

“What what?” 

“Mickey, you’re practically thinking out loud. If you have something to say, out with it.”

“Can you do that, then? Read minds?”

“Of course not,” he said as if it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Then, sniffing, he completely changed his tone. “Well not how you mean, anyway. And I’d have to be touching you, quite intimately, which I’m not planning on doing any time soon. So no, I can’t read your mind. You just look like you’ve been having deep thoughts, and I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself on my watch. Anything wrong?”

He chose to disregard the insult for the time being. He wondered if he really _should_ talk to the Doctor, have a man-to-man (or man-to-alien, whatever), set it out for him that if he hurt Rose he’d have Mickey Smith to deal with. But he had a good idea that the Doctor would just claim ignorance and innocence in all of it, say that the welfare of Rose’s heart was nothing to do with him. 

So instead of bringing up a topic that would probably make them both squirm uncomfortably, he said, “I didn’t need a holiday, you know. I was doing just fine. I can keep up.”

The Doctor eyed him for a moment before speaking. “Good,” was all he said. Then he stretched his legs out on the table in front of him.

“Right. Just so we’re clear.”

“You going to be quiet so I can hear the rest of this?”

Mickey said nothing in response, but turned back to the telly. While they watched the rest of the film in companionable silence, he couldn’t help feeling he somehow had got his point across to the Doctor with that small exchange anyway. Much as he might dislike the arrogant alien sometimes, and as much as he still blamed him for stealing Rose away from him, Mickey felt that maybe he _understood_ the Doctor just a little bit more after today. 

He wasn’t sure how he’d come to the realization; maybe the Doctor could project his feelings with some of his alien mind voodoo, but Mickey was certain of at least one thing.

The Doctor needed Rose like other people needed air. 

Mickey couldn’t and wouldn’t stand in the way of that. He wasn’t sure, though, that he could stand around and watch it either.

 

>>

 

After the film ended and Mickey had trotted off to bed, he gave it a few minutes, and then went to seek out Rose.

He had no illusions about _why_ he was seeking her out. He didn’t even pretend to himself that it was for any reason other than to finish what they had started earlier today. It was bordering on a physical ache, this need to touch her. And while in the past a hand to hold had been enough for him, it wasn’t now. Passions long held in check had been awakened in him recently, and right now, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted them silenced again. 

Still it was more than slightly odd, finding himself in front of his companion’s bedroom door late at night because he wanted to make love to her.

He allowed a series of niggling, lingering doubts to creep into him again, not the least of which was concern about whether Rose really wanted this from him right now. Then, trying to suppress them, he knocked on her door and entered at her soft call of welcome. 

She was sitting at the edge of her bed reading a magazine, feet swinging idly. 

“Took you long enough. I was about to go to sleep.”

He let his eyes rove over her form. She was still fully dressed, but for the shoes that never found their way back onto her feet post-cleanup after returning from Halcyon earlier in the day. She didn’t look like she had any intention of sleeping any time soon.

“Sorry. I could go if you want me to,” he said moving to stand in front of her, hoping that he was right in assuming she _still_ had no intention of sleeping any time soon. 

She tossed the magazine.

“Are you kidding?” She peered up at him and her dazzling little pink tongue made a teasing appearance at the corner of her mouth. 

He desperately wanted to kiss her. And it still filled him with an inordinate thrill that he _could_. That he _had_ and would again. He hadn’t lost her. Even though he’d pushed her from him, patently rejected her, _left_ her—more than once—she hadn’t given up on him. 

He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it aside, and then slid to his knees before her, so he’d not be staring down at her.

“No,” he said. “I’m not kidding. If you’re not sure—”

She clapped a hand over his lips, stopping him. “Doctor, if I wasn’t sure, do you think I’d have let you touch me like you did today?”

He didn’t know what to say to that, and her words brought the memory of what they’d done there flooding back into him at full force, suffusing him with heat. He’d been trying in vain to think of anything _but_ touching her so intimately since they’d left that lovely planet, knowing it’d be hours until he could again. Now they’d barely touched at all, and already his body was beginning to respond.

She slid her hand from his mouth to his hair and her other joined it there, running through it slowly. He closed his eyes and drank in the sensation.

“Rose,” he groaned, placing his hands on her denim-clad knees and slowly sliding them up her thighs. With her hands on him, and his on her, it was likely he’d quickly lose the ability to think rationally, but he had to say this now. Their time in the gardens had felt so surreal, like none of the concerns either of them had had mattered, like there were no consequences to actions. But being on the TARDIS made everything all the more real. Rose had said they were to go about this properly, the first time he’d kissed her, when he’d thought he’d been ready to have her right there in his study. 

Opening his eyes, he studied hers intently as her hands stilled in his hair. She was clearly already powerfully aroused, but her eyes also showed a hint of worry. She had cause to doubt him, of course. He’d been terribly inconsistent with her in the past. He wanted her to know that he planned an end to all that, but that for all his youthful face belied it, he _was_ old, and old habits died mightily hard with him. 

He dipped his head and placed a kiss against her knee, damning the fabric still covering it. He wanted her skin beneath his lips again. “You said we were to take our time.”

He wasn’t expecting a giggle in response. “I think we’re a bit past that, now, don’t you think, Doctor? Another few minutes alone on that bouncy rock and you know as well as I do my knickers would have been off in the bushes somewhere.”

She was right, absolutely. He tried not to think of what would have happened had Mickey found them like that, instead of just a slightly flustered Rose.

“That was there, though,” he said to her thigh.

She lifted his head from her lap and eyed him, squinting like she was trying to figure him out. Then she spoke, her voice a slow, husky purr.

“And I’ve spent every second since we got back to the TARDIS desperate to get you alone again, to touch you.???? She began undoing the top buttons of his shirt. “You telling me it wasn’t the same for you? Felt like it, eyes you were giving me while we were watching telly, the way your hands went up my legs when Mickey wasn’t looking. Am I wrong?” 

She arrived at the limit of where her hands could reach with his buttons, so he stood before her again. He undid the rest and quickly discarded the garment and the undershirt beneath, then pulled her to her feet as well.

“Of course you’re not wrong.” He slid his arms about her and finally kissed her, loving both the taste of her mouth and the feel of so little separating her from his bare skin. Wanting even less between them, he broke the kiss and lifted the hem of her shirt. Obliging him, she lifted her arms so he could remove it from her entirely.

“You’re not wrong,” he repeated, leaning to kiss her near her collarbone. His hands found her back again and he revelled in the feel of her silky flesh beneath his fingers. “But I don’t want to muck this up,” he whispered against her.

Her hands came up between them, running lightly over his chest, and for a second he faltered in his task of kissing her skin, entranced by the new and marvellous sensation of her delicate touch.

“You won’t.”

“What?” He lifted his head.

“Muck it up. We won’t. ‘S _you and me_ , Doctor.” She said it as if it were the simplest, most obvious thing in the world. 

And maybe it was. If he was honest with himself, he knew his doubts and fears were almost nothing more than habitual. Rose is, was, and always would be worth any risk. And when risk taking felt this good, so right—more destined than inevitable, though he didn’t believe in destiny, really—well… his decision had been made a long time ago.

She gave him a dazzling smile that made his hearts clench and did similar things to his gut, above where her hands were still fluttering.

He kissed the smile from her and she responded hungrily, meeting his plunging tongue with her own, flattening her hand against his stomach as it got pressed between them. Then, after a moment, she used that hand to push him back a pace, breaking the kiss. He was about to question her actions when she moved both hands to the fastenings of his trousers.

 

* * * 

Rose wanted to touch him as he had her. She wanted to see him lose control, to come undone, to _come_. 

“I’ll be a lot more naked than you, then,” he challenged, his eyes sparkling at her.

She undid the clasp. “You’ve still got your trainers.”

He laughed and caught her hands in his. He kissed them lightly, toed off his shoes and reached behind her to undo her bra. She let him slide it down her shoulders, watched as his eyes took her in, but stopped him as he went to touch her. 

“My turn, Doctor.” 

“But—”

She undid his zip and slid her hand in to touch him directly, marvelling at rendering him temporarily speechless. She explored tentatively at first, watching his face as he grew even harder. His dark eyes met hers; he sucked in a quick breath through his slightly open mouth. Then she wrapped her hand around him firmly and stroked. His eyes slammed shut and his fists clenched then relaxed at his sides. She repeated the action twice more and he groaned and staggered a bit. She continued with a slow and steady rhythm, enthralled by the rapt pleasure on his face and the sound of his quick, short breaths.

Quite suddenly his eyes snapped open and his hand shot to her wrist stilling her movements.

“Rose,” he breathed out, his voice a low, silky timbre. “Stop.”

“Why?” she asked teasingly.

He gently pulled her hand away, then ran his hands down her arms slowly, causing her to shiver and refocus on her own body’s reaction. God she wanted him. She was practically shaking with it. The way he was looking at her didn’t help, and there were really far far too many clothes still between them. Still she tried to hold on to some measure of control.

“Because, Rose. First time in this body and all and—” 

“Do you mean that you’ve never—”

“Not with this body, no.”

Well, that answered one of her remaining questions about what had or _hadn’t_ happened while the Doctor was at Versailles. But she really didn’t want to think about another woman who might have loved the Doctor right now. 

“And more importantly,” he continued as if she hadn’t interrupted, “first time with you. It should be… _with you_.” His voice dropped low again as he reminded her of their conversation earlier. “That all right?”

“Um,” she said oh so eloquently. “Yeah. ‘Course.” 

“Good.” He quickly shoved his trousers and pants past his hips and off, and then reached forward to undo her jeans. 

She was momentarily transfixed by his completely nude form. Her eyes followed the lines and angles downwards, familiarizing herself with what she’d only touched thus far. When she reached his feet, she realized that her jeans were now pooled at her ankles. She looked up at him to find him beaming at her and a lovely sly smile at his lips. 

He pointedly glanced at the bed.

She placed a hand on his chest and gave him a small shove so that he fell backwards onto it. He blinked up at her in surprise before she climbed atop of him and straddled his thighs. She rocked against him, their bodies still separated by the small piece of lace that was her knickers, and he groaned again. 

She leaned down to kiss him and he devoured her mouth in response, messily kissing back, a hand clamped to the back of her head for a moment before he moved both of them down to her hips. His hands slipped beneath her knickers to cover her bum and he pulled her against him. He hit just the right spot and she gasped, breaking their kiss. 

Oh she had wanted to tease him, to get him as worked up and over as she’d been in that Eden. But she was beyond waiting any longer, and he did seem about ready to burst as it was—his hands clenched on her arse, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

She placed a small, almost chaste kiss on his chest and then shimmied out of his grasp. He whimpered and opened his eyes as she rolled off of him and onto her back.

“Rose?”

“Knickers,” she gasped out, reaching down and practically flinging the offending garment off of her and quickly clambering back on top of the Doctor. An instant later he rolled them and she found herself on her back again, looking up at him.

They were both panting for breath, but save that they were so very still. It suddenly felt a bit like everything was in slow motion. His eyes bore into her, she felt his hand beneath her knee, shifting her so he could get into position between her thighs, then a hand come up and brush wayward strands of her hair out of her face. And then in one smooth stroke he was inside her and time sped up again. 

Almost immediately they found a rhythm in their urgent movements. They were racing toward the finish, and that suited her just fine this time around. She had wanted to watch him, to concentrate on his face, but with what he was doing to her, it was difficult to concentrate on anything but the incredible sensations building inside of her. Because experienced or not, his body knew exactly what it was doing.

“Doctor?” she managed to breath out.

“Wha’?”

“How do you…” she trailed off into a moan, her eyes sliding shut. “You know just how to—” she cut herself off with a gasping squeak as he altered the angle and sped up the tempo setting off the first fine tremors within her. Another few thrusts and she came, it rolling through her like a thunderclap—rumbling, exploding, and receding only slowly.  
She opened her eyes just in time to see him follow her. His eyes squeezed shut, his jaw taut, his whole lean body rigid and finely trembling after his final plunge into hers.

She ran a hand soothingly along his back as he gently let his weight settle upon her, his head pillowed on her breast. Bliss radiated through her whole body. She’d never felt quite so content. And just having had probably the best shag of her life was only part of that. It was amazing, physically, but what it meant for the two of them went far beyond that.

He rested there, still, until their heart rates approached normal, before shifting off of her. He propped himself on an elbow and peered down at her. 

“So what do you think?” he asked, his voice still a bit gravelly. 

“What?” Her eyes widened. He wasn’t asking for a… _review_ , was he? 

“Peanut butter and banana like I mentioned before? Toasted cheese? What do you fancy?”

“Doctor,” she groaned, “you are not going to make us sandwiches right now.”

“I’m not? Well, it doesn’t have to be sandwiches, I suppose.” He huffed when she gave him A Look. “Rose, sex is an unusual energy expenditure for Time Lords. Need to replenish with food.”

“Can’t you replenish with cuddles and sleep like everyone else?” Right now she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms.

“Yes. Cuddles and sleep, preceded by nibbles.” He kissed her shoulder and slid out of bed, heading for the door.

“Well put something on at least!” She reached blindly next to the bed and tossed what she found at the Doctor, and then promptly dissolved into a fit of giggles when he put it on.

“What, I don’t look fetching in your dressing gown?”

 

>>

 

He didn’t care to guess at the picture he made, tiptoeing about the TARDIS in Rose’s fluffy pink robe which barely brushed the top of his knees, balancing two cups of tea and a plate of snacks. He didn’t relish the thought of having to make any awkward explanations either. 

But thankfully, he arrived at Rose’s door again without incident. He quietly slipped into the bedroom, only to find her already curled up on her side, fast asleep. 

He stood stock still for a moment, just observing her; carefully memorizing the contours of her face, softened by sleep.

 _All over, throughout space and time, people are wasting chances at happiness_ , he’d said to her. _I don’t want to run out of time with **you** _.

He hadn’t. He _wouldn’t_. 

He set his burden carefully on the bedside table, shucked the cloth that covered him and climbed into bed beside his Rose.

He pulled her close, fitting his body to hers, revelling in her soft, sleepy noises of contentment. He briefly allowed himself to think of how his people would have frowned on such a thing, finding such joy in the close company of a lesser species from an insignificant planet. Would any of them understand now that she was the only thing that kept him from feeling truly, devastatingly, alone?

His people had been wrong about so many things. Maybe it was time one of them got it right.

 

FIN


End file.
